Airim
by Sorcerer's Familiar
Summary: Former No.6, Phantom Miria was the nucelus of rebellion against the Claymore's masters. Of whispered power, she has led her warriors from death to life and now to new combat; but so much is unseen in her nature and even phantoms may cast shadows..........


I do not own Claymore or any of its related characters or copyrights. These are the property of Norihiro Yagi, Jump Square, Madhouse Studios, Viz media and their respective affiliates.

_Claymore_

Airim

"_What we see is but an illusion." – _Awakened Being to Miria, Paburo Mountains Hunt.

For a time, they had taken up far from the village of Saxen; the settlement now empty, ruined and devoid of human life. In the high forests to the north, the group had travelled and, acting upon older information, had happened upon a cavern not far up the side of a neighbouring mountain. It was here that the warriors of a era seven years in the past would fashion a home in the shadowy recesses which, beyond the wide threshold, one could peer across the forests and upon the distant summits all around. The cold white of the world above denying them any fruitful findings, the forest below soon invited exploration and, after a few days of weaving through the maze of ivory robed trees and snow, they soon discovered something of whispered repute and rare sight; more so in the high, harsh places of the forsaken and barren Alphonse. Soon, their scouts returning with confirmation of what had been spied from afar by dark silver eyes, dark hoods fell back and a rare expression of pleasant surprise was found upon their faces. Their words bearing tentative promise, opinion was saved for the judgement of their leader and, after some thought, she agreed to this occasion of rest from the regimens and training of the past weeks. Quietly, her words were greeted with a not unexpected embrace. They had sought out the place as a group sometime later and marvelled at their extraordinary discovery upon their latest travels. The white forests began to clear; the snow withering until the earth beneath could be found, the land dipping until the source of this transformation was discovered there. Footsteps slowly stalling as silver eyes grew wider in recognition, the party eventually came to a stop and beheld their prize. Beneath their gaze, it appeared to be a spring; its warmth evident upon the breeze and with the rich steam which rose from its seemingly tranquil surface. Amid its cradle of high neighbouring trees, a mountain peered down from on high; the most likely source for this unseasonal warmth as Miria fashioned a theory with heat from the earth deep below and echoed with Cynthia, though the idea of a still active volcanic site did raise cause for concern. The relative stability of the site unquestioned and their security uncompromised as Tabitha swept the miles beneath her gaze and found nothing, the party wondered, inevitably what would become of their find. Already leaning towards some rest from the weeks of training, Miria consented to a few curious eyes and a warm greeting rippled through her command; a few curious, others welcoming of a dip in the smoky waters while some wondered what the sudden interest was all about. Helen particularly enthusiastic, Deneve did confess a quiet interest in what it would be like while Clare too found herself wondering at the prospect of perpetually warm waters. Arrangements came afterwards and, after some negotiation and regard for propriety, it was settled. Returning to their mountain retreat, the business of fashioning something like a home was underway and soon, the day still on their side, the first pair set off for below.

Helen and Deneve, shifting and twisting through the propriety of disrobing, soon ventured into the water. Helen first was found to enjoy it, floating out a little before turning and calling to her more composed partner that it was fine and hot; her voice followed with the fleeting spectacle of the fellow claymore leaving her robe and slipping into the waiting warmth. Careful to keep their weapons as close as possible, bound in cloth, on the nearby land, Deneve wondered about the difficulty found in fighting an enemy when they themselves were so indisposed; Helen joking that the sight of her bereft of any vestment would inevitably sting them with lustful stillness before she could remove their head. Deneve wondering how her partner could think of combat while totally naked ,raised an eyebrow briefly. Gradually, the others came and went. Cynthia and Tabitha sharing each other's company, while Clare followed with a tentative Yuma; some awkwardness putting a silence between them before both relaxed and came to enjoy the caressing warmth from below. The defensive warrior wondering if Helen had been right in her saying that bonding on the battlefield wasn't the only means by which warriors could come to understand each other. The day had passed into late afternoon and , finally, their leader soon made her way to that warm place and quietly disrobed; cloak and leather bonds yielding to firm, ivory flesh as the weapon was lowered carefully. Experienced hands drawing the blade from its harness, just in case. Casting a final careful gaze across the hot mists and to the adjacent shore, she turned and eased herself into the waters. The rich sensations were inviting and soon pleasure was found as the heat caressed tight muscles and tense flesh. After a time, a unfamiliar ease lifted pale lips into a smile and she let herself sink beneath the surface; rising steadily once more with a sigh, her locks plastered to cheeks and back as she peered around at the nature which bore silent witness to the lone warrior. Yes. In reflection, this had been a good, positive move in allowing her troop to relax here in an unexpected boon from their often hard journeys. The therapeutic effects well known to her, she contemplated a more regular use of this place for her fellow warriors to unwind for the hard tasks ahead. There was some benefit also, as some of the tensions within her force had faded and they seemed renewed in spirit afterwards. Nodding gently, she resolved to ponder it more. Peering down, she brought her hands together beneath, cupping them, and brought the fleshy vessel up. The water lingering within her hands, her lowered, wet visage was prepared as she readied to dowse her features. Bringing the water closer, she peered at the surface then stopped. The shifting, watery pool within her hands reflected a twisted, cruel and demonic visage; its features framed by the same wet locks and coils of hair. The face wrought with the twisting contours of swollen veins, the flesh yielded to a mouth warped, beneath which a jagged world of teeth sat. The eyes were golden and deep in their reptilian fashion. Their gaze reflecting her own with a silent intent.

She blinked, her hands parting and the water fell back to the depths below. Her eyes still as thoughts fluttered beneath them, her hands lowered and an answer came. Her gaze narrowing a little, a cold realisation awoke within. Reflecting deeper, she understood what it was.

But why now........ Why did it have to be now?

Rising slowly, she silently eased her wet flesh dry and dressed; setting off with a cold gaze and some solution was sought for this......._malaise_. Sweeping through the cold world of frost and silver, she came to know what she must do. The others may have to be told, but not if it can be resolved without any spectacle. Drawing away, she quietly made her plans and hoped that the coming of the icy dawn tomorrow brought a favourable answer; the presence of the great blade beneath her mantle remaining as the instrument of redress, if it did not.......

Night had come steadily; the light receding before the shadow which crept through the sky and all beneath it. In their retreat, the party had taken to rest as a fire danced and crackled; the shadows flickering across the high walls as some drew close while others occupied themselves. Helen and Deneve dwelled near the flame, seeming conversing on the day's finding along with Cynthia. The pigtail adorned warrior, chin cupped in a soft palm, listening intently to the animated Helen's account of swimming in such warm water that day. Clare, occasionally glancing at the fire, had taken to cleaning her weapon before dowsing it with water. Tabitha was seated further away, in some isolation, seated; her legs curled beneath while her hands rested upon open thighs. Her posture still and features passive, her closed eyes told of some deep meditation; the occasional movement beneath the lids leading some to wonder if she was scanning outside for something. Yuma, still upon her mattress, was leaning over some small volumes; one in particular holding her attention as she sifted through the old pages, head resting against her free hand. Her warriors resting from the day, their captain-commander sat upon her mattress silently. Hands resting in her lap, her eyes held the dancing light of the fire and narrowed in thought. The time drawing close, she sighed and rose slowly. A few glancing back as their leader prepared for sleep, she unfolded her pillows and drew back her doublet; folding the dark garment nearby as she partially undressed then slipped beneath the heavy sheet. Turning, she peered at the flame once more and let the warmth slowly take her away, hoping her preparation for the potential trial ahead would be enough for what awaited her.

Beyond the intricate maze of her thoughts and the elaborate strategies which flickered like starry constellations in the ether of her mind, Miria went forth; leaving behind the familiar world and venturing forth to a place far from the mental ambience she was used to. Further and further as the horizon drew dark and her focus grew in anticipation. Her soft tread upon the surface did not hesitate even as the world beneath her feet grew darker until ebony was found beyond the smooth, slender shapes which supported her. Going forward, a faint, but palpable feeling of vertigo passed through her; a distortion she recognised as her senses wavered momentarily and a deep tension bloomed within. Passing through this, the tension dissolved and she felt quickly lighter in form as was familiar but still the horizon remained dark. The passage forward ongoing, expectation was vindicated as she felt a familiar flicker in her senses and, slowly, her steps came to a halt before the darkness. Sighing, she looked forth and peered into the void; eyes narrowing in scrutiny as she patiently waited. Before her, in the hinterland of her consciousness, sharp eyes caught the first turn of movement in the darkness. She made constant her gaze and soon she found more stirrings in the gloom. It was, with some gradual pace, that something shifted beneath her gaze. The ebony dancing across a deeper shape there. Its advance recognised, the shape grew more distinct and moved forward. In the darkness, luminous eyes of reptilian amber shone and the contours of a sleek, armoured shape danced in the abyss. Knowing this thing, she lowered her impassive visage a little, closed her eyes and swiftly turned on her heel. The gesture was not lost on the creature as the advance stopped and it seemed to linger for a moment. A tense silence seemed to lie too long before it was broken by something not unexpected; the sound ebbing from the shadow dweller. The rumination a cold, cruel echo of her own voice, tinged with an alien resonance.

"My...apologies.....this form is not one that meets with your...favour....is it?

The thin inflection of propriety hung in the air for a time as Miria, her gaze facing from whence she came, opened her eyes; her expression unchanging. As if taking heed from this unseen signal, the shadow drew back once more and the eyes faded. Melting away, its presence was replaced after a time by another more acute sound; the sharp repetition of armoured heels echoing before a figure became discernable and soon walked forward. The thing had taken a more human shape now. Miria's own form, clad in the long discarded armour and suit of a claymore; her symbol impressed upon the black of the throat guard. Framed by longer hair, the face was her's ,yet not. The countenance perpetually twisted with the harsh contours wrought by youki; deep veins, a jagged maw lingering beneath tight lips and those demonic eyes pools of amber set in pallid flesh. Closer and closer it drew, its mannerisms so familiar until, some distance away, it stopped; the head lowering slightly as if in question.

"_This....shape.....is more to your taste, is it not. This form is more to your feelings, as it were?_................"

The voice was met with silence, but soon a measured response came and Miria slowly turned around; the face unchanging before this apparition' s words. There, clearly before the captain stood something she hated, yet it was without purity; for this was much more complex than simple hatred, something so close that it could not always be called an enemy.....but never, perhaps, something that could be loved. Pausing for a moment, she spoke carefully.

"It has been a very long time since we last spoke. Why did you push forward now, when I was reposed?" The answer came from a impassive face; the demonic eyes betraying no intent as it answered.

"_It has been a very long time, especially now. Seven years is long to abide in the wilderness and we have started to feel doubt trouble out thoughts_."

"I may feel doubt, but it is not so strong as to pull you from your place to come to me. What I feel is simply another step in trying to plan for the future."

"_We know what you feel in this doubt, and we know that it is more than that. We have begun to cast our thoughts to the world beyond and what may await us there. The adversaries and trials that may lie beyond the white veil of this cold land of Alphonse; now dead to all but the vestiges of the Silver King's strength, the yoma that follow them and the contingent of our kind that venture forth to slay them. But we know that our thoughts travel further than this_."

"I have planned for what may come from the south and I still linger upon what I alone know, but I can't help but wonder why you have come forward now, even without the certainty."

"_As I have said, we doubt and what you feel is deep, deeper than any of the others can know. You question the words of the past; the actions of seven years ago still dwell within, the colours of that time washing through our thoughts.........................Even now, you question what brought your comrades to you; but the nature of your query is not what it was, is it_?"

"What has changed in this to so draw you?" Miria's words cool as she tried to measure the approaches of this thing; the voice stirring dark, half born memories as she dwelled on her party.

"_Once, you agonised over why you couldn't save more, but now I can't help but feel that any feelings like that are_..........._disingenuous_."

"I don't understand what you say...."

"_You don't understand? Surely, what we have felt is true. Back then, we wept for the loss of so many of our kind, but now.....but now, we know that the number under your command is stable and obedient. Any more may have been a cumbersome and clumsy force to wield. For even though we desired as many as possible, we doubt that others would be so inclined to follow our lead. Think of it, purely, for a moment. Do we truly think that experienced, bloodied warriors would obey us, when beyond the organisation's control and free to live as they pleased. Flora....Jean....Undine....Veronica, we hardly think they would have followed you out into the wilderness without question or conflict. The force we now have, the legacy bequeathed to us, the power of command we have over others, it would have been much harder with more to contend with_........." Miria gave no action on the thing's cold, knowing word's, yet the harsh whisper that fell from her lips voiced a deep anger.

"Irrespective as to what you may feel, you have no right to speak their names.......you will not speak those names...." The thing gave no reaction, save only to continue; the pools of cruel amber returning her gaze.

"_Their names?......you believe that I should honour those who might have very well rebelled against us? Who might have fought us if we revealed to them what we have suffered to know? Their sacrifice was combat against a superior being; manipulated by the organisation and oblivious to the reason for their very being. The , possibly, true reason. Their destruction came before something that surpassed them in every way. I cannot feel for those who could not see the stronger nature of their foe and......evolved beyond that weakness_."

" Whether they would have survived or not, the strength of those warriors is beyond doubt; the stronger nature you speak of, I have seen spilt in pristine snow and black earth, far from what you might imagine in your musings."

"_Perhaps.............but if so many had survived the carnage, say 12 or 16, what then? What would you have fashioned from this renegade force? This army of battered resolve? Could it be that you would have birthed a crusade of moon kissed flesh and silver eyes? And where would you lead it? To the gates of Staff itself? To the west? Or perhaps across the sea to the other land that may await and all the perils yet to crave your destruction? If this be your vision, then we cannot say we believe it_...................." Miria gave no reaction once more; her eyes hard at the creature's contempt. Without too long a pause, she continued.

"What may have been cannot be now, those who follow me understand that. They know that the future is perilous and full of danger. You will not erode my resolve by chipping away at the past." The thing seemed to linger on the words before those unwholesome, golden eyes narrowed; like a serpent ready to strike, some poison drawing forth on its tongue.

"_The past? You speak of the past?........Yes. And, pray tell, what do your troop know of the past? They know of your great mind, your strength, your skill......They know of your conviction and your plans. They even know of your heart and what lies there as the seed of this rebellion_........" The creature's voice was cold, cruel in its inflection as it silently probed the genesis of her reflection's will; the dead, still body and severed head of Hilda; most loved friend and awakened being who was consumed by an act of cruelty and eventually fell beneath Miria's blade. Miria herself felt the cold pain rise within her and let her lips whisper a demand.

"No. You will not, you will never speak her name. You understand this well. You will not let that warrior's life pass your lips......." The twisted image before her only let a wicked smile draw away it's lips; a razor, jagged world glistening beneath the flesh, more demon than human.

"_Oh, don't worry. I know. I know I'm to never speak her name. Especially when it rolls inside our head so often, I have no need to.......... but they even know of her too. Rather, it would be interesting to raise the question: what would your underlings think if they knew about us..........about........me_?" The inflection not lost on the captain, the words stirred a faint concern that was quickly hidden.

"I do not linger on such things. It would not help them to know of......_this_. They are all experienced warriors; they all have the same dilemma, the same questions to face within." The apparition raised one thin eye brow in mock intrigue; the eyes holding no concern except for the little flicker of.....of.....what was it? Shame? Perhaps dread, or maybe anger? She smiled.

"_Yes. Of course. Yet, you are thinking to closely to your own little elite, aren't you? Deneve, Helen and Clare.............Yes, Clare. We are concerned about that one ,aren't we? Fascinating, yet also beautiful and disgusting. We know of her power, yet I don't think she quite knows of the complexity with which our condition abounds with...........But still, she is a ferocious progeny. We have been thinking of how to deal with her should she..........become difficult_."

"Clare is powerful, but even now she must control her passions. Clare has questions to answer within herself, as we all do....." Before her, the thing didn't seem impressed by the answer.

"_And, what if those questions bring her into conflict with us and jeopardise all we have worked for. She is powerful. Her youki speaks of the flesh and blood of Teresa...........the arm of Quick Sword Irene and her own will. We shed no tears for her past or for herself but though we cannot feel, she may become the voice of all that she has struggled with. A terrible power. A power that may erupt like a tempest upon us. A creature that can only be overcome by a foe whose mind is swifter, more fluid, more focused, more powerful and far more complex than she may be able to imagine_......." The thing's words were unmistakable in their intent, stirring memories of concern, blood and conflict within her more human counterpart. She did not answer, the twisted visage before her drawing back a little as if in interest.

"_You still haven't answered my question, about how they would feel if they knew of us? If they knew of our existence all this time. Perhaps the only force that may clip that bladed angel's wings before she takes flight across this time_."

"I will not answer it. As I have said, Clare has difficult decisions to make; I will try to ensure that the most mutually beneficial outcome is at hand."

"_Your painted nobility doesn't work with us, Miria. We know beyond that. We know this because they are our words and are not without later revision_." Silence returned between the two and for a time, neither gave way. Knowing each other too deeply in this. It wasn't until the twisted one spoke that a simmering tension eased between them for now.

"_But you know of what I speak; you know that you can't deny it, just as you cannot deny us. What would they think if they beheld us as we are? If they understood what they share company with? If they saw us as we really are? We do not think they would be so inclined to follow us if they knew of their leader's_..........._complexity._" Miria seemed to reflect on her words before answering, her eyes giving away little before she responded.

"It may become necessary to tell them in time, but not as you might like it. I.....we...we have spoken many times in the past. We have an arrangement. That concordance is the fulcrum of this peace so far. But, I will not think of letting it be weighed against me, if you so act out of turn........." The cold, clear words rippled in the creature before her but it did not answer immediately; the taunt lips rising, flexing slightly as if to speak, but any answer was still born as they closed and its pupils grew thinner, maybe in anger or contempt.

"_Perhaps, Miria........but we know that your strategies are not perfect, more so if the world suddenly turns upon them; testing them to destruction. We know that our strength comes from the same place, and in that place there is me. You have need of me in the past and infinitely more so in the future that plays like an unfinished song in our head. Though you may think us an enemy, we know that you have a greater and greater hunger for us, for that which may, in a flicker of movement, undo our enemies_..........."

"Our....my enemies will come in time and will be undone with prudent design; the strength I have comes from many places and not only that you speak of. If war demands it, I will strain to overcome my foes but not simply because you are the spring of power, I don't think I'll be seduced by your gestures; no matter what you may pull up." Strangely, the figure before her didn't seem put off; a thin smile growing as its eyes rose and fell in what seemed like recognition of a sort; as if a distant memory had suddenly bloomed into colour once more.

"_Me, tempt you?........that's ever so indulgent, my noble Miria, for we remember another time when the song of our soul was darkest power, fury and hunger. It was as you dowsed yourself with every cruel desire that you did partake of our strength, that which so aids you even now_."

"But, times have changed. I.....I understood my folly. To have.....to follow that path would have led to death at _her_ hand's. Even that, more a reason to do what calls us. In this, I believe I have your.....support, shall we call it?" Her eyes followed the doppelganger's expression as it seemed to regard her for a moment before letting its head lean to the side; as if in some state of intrigue before its eyes grew sharp, turning a little as if cruelly amused. The captain, wary of tricks, was cautious.

"You find my words amusing, then?.........."

"_I find those words soft and so very warm, a beautiful fantasy.......but yes, your strength is our strength, though there is something I will never believe_........." With a casual gesture, one hand eased past hidden features and it turned; so quickly and smoothly as to be instantaneous. Miria suppressed her surprise, knowing the thing's power, yet intrigued as to what she now beheld. There ,peering at her with those cool, playful eyes.

Ophelia.

The thing wrapping itself in a dead face, the voice, the mannerisms were perfect; drawn from the pool of toxic memories now so long ago. Her eyes narrowing a little, the illusion spoke, advancing with the former 4th ranked warrior's customary ease.

"_I know you enjoyed it, yes we do. We felt your lifting spirit. We saw the ecstasy of absolute vengeance within; lustrous and black, like freshly polished onyx. We know that it eased your anger. We understood your immeasurable pleasure as your were told of her death_." The captain did not respond, silver eyes dipping a little before rising into a narrowed gaze; her mouth thin and impassive.

"No. Your are wrong. I didn't feel any pleasure....."

"_Yes, you did_."

"No, I did not."

"_Within, we know you smiled when Clare told you of her demise_."

"No."

"_Humiliated and defeated by Irene of the Quicksword_........"

"No."

"_Tortured by a host of wounds and driven into the wilderness_..........."

"No."

"_Consumed by the madness that was so much her passion and power_.........."

"No."

"_Then, the ultimate defeat for her of awakening, realising it in all her delicious horror and ending it by being shredded by a flickering blade_."

"No, I...I did not take such pleasure......"

"_Yes...you did. That is the truth, we beheld, because we know_........" The long dead warrior smiled innocently, leaning forward before rising up once more; entwining slender, gloved hands and walking around behind Miria. Leaning closely, behind her shoulder, she drew close to a pale ear. In a sweet whisper, she continued.

"_We know that even now, you wish to rip this form apart, cut her head off and pierce her heart. Making sure that she would have regretted not conforming to our friend's wish and delivered the card to you......Acts of violence we know that lingered inside our mind like a sweet scent_.........." Miria pressed her lips together and slightly averted her gaze; moving away in a tense motion to escape the repugnant intimacy of that form and the thing beneath. The living ghost smiled, the long braid shifting slightly as it slid against her cloak while she inclined her head; hands entwined still in a delicate gesture. Some time passed and the weary captain peered at the thing, eyes hard shards of silver.

"I....we....I will not yield to that.....those feelings have no meaning anymore. I have made my peace with that tragic warrior........."

"_Perhaps, yet your hate still shines like ice in the morning, our noble captain_........."

"I have made my understanding clear......please, get rid of that form........." The illusion smiled and a moment later the familiar, twisted features of her older self returned a stale expression with amber eyes. Miria spoke first.

"I will not be enticed by shadows of the past and not by that fallen warrior. Remembering what has happened in past tragedies only stiffens my resolve. You know this......"

"_What I wish to entice in you is a knowledge of the absolute truth of our nature. In an instant, when you understood the tragedy of the world; of its truths and nature you did open to power. A well of awesome strength and you and I, we, were truly as one_........."

"You mistake my feelings in that moment for something you want."

"_I mistake nothing, for we know of what you desired, wept for, screamed into a cold, black heaven for.........but no. We understood what may have befallen us. But, in all that followed, you still rejected yourself, still dismissed our power and tried to lock it away. It has been for so long, but we know that you desire power and wish for that with which your enemies will be undone and, in that, we are the last word in your prayers_..............." Miria let her hands open, sighing before letting some tension leave her form. Eyeing the cruel gaze, she met its words with a thought.

"Perhaps. Perhaps, we are now so much closer than before; almost like when this begun, but it is not as you think. I may need of more power, more and more, but I will remain in favour of what must be done so that the objectives laid out before my group are achieved.........in that, power has a focus and even those........_instincts_, you speak of, are subordinated to that." The thing didn't seem impressed by any measure; a cynical, cold smile lingering as the captain justified herself, but already Miria could sense something swimming in those reptilian eyes.

"_You talk about subordinating desire, instinct and power, do you?...........Well, that may be true even if it is so weak an answer. But even then, you know that so much more could be done if you would only be with us..........Know that what is so difficult now would be as not with our resolve. But, instead you seek constantly the way of pain, the way of tribulation; constantly denying your desires, the language of power we know so well and your own vision of things we may create in favour of deferring to this pathetic vanity_........"

"My "vanity" simply shows how much we are apart; if you can't divine its worth to me, simply to dismiss it as pathetic..."

"_Miria, I speak because it is pathetic. You bind yourself to this miserable form to honour your humanity....when......we know, there is no true humanity left_."The captain's cold eyes peered at the apparition, probing its demonic expression for further justification. The figure only nodded slowly, as if enjoying painting its vision for her.

"_Yes, we know there is very little left. We know, and have always known, that all is but a small, delicate and hollow shell; a vessel for our power which bears the cruelty and malice of this world behind a face that is but a ill fitting mask, more so in these days as you think of descending back into the world_." Miria simply cast a cold smile.

"..........You think of discarding masks? We all wear masks of one type or another; what you try to seduce me with is possibly something even you would detest eventually. A place of instinct alone would work with and against you, you know this............"

"_I try to seduce you?........really?...........I try to seduce you with the truth of your nature, Miria. You strain that human face across your visage when it has long lost any real meaning. The world you have dwelled in has no place for such delicate forms. The humans you once were ordered to protect hate and despise you, as humans do, as the organisation has sent you away to a terrible war in hopes that it would remove an interference from unruly warriors and grant more time for.........special warriors, to be born. With this, the yoma and awakened beings that spatter this cold land are the only ones you may think of as equals_."

"I think you are speaking of dreams......"

"_I may, but these are our dreams, Miria. We see them behind our eyes and feel them within. We know that the world may have changed below the walls of rock and frost and in the lands of Toulouse. But, though the parties of warriors stationed in Pieta show the organisation's survival, there is much to be gained from Alphonse still. Casting aside this delicate form, we might take this land of heights and depths and remake it. The other's would have little choice but to agree and those who rebelled would be exiled or bound or simply broken, if you seek a merciful solution. The yoma would follow our strength and the other awakened beings would submit to our ideals. We may retake the towns and give a new order its first breath. We may fashion Alphonse into a new kingdom for our kind. And so, if anything more remains of the world to the warm south then we might fortify our station as others recognise what we have made_."

"And what would this be to the world, then?"

"_If he lives, Isely of the south. If she lives, Riful of the west. The organisation entrenched in the fortified Staff to the east. And then, to what may unfold, Miria of the north_............" The captain's cold expression did not change; the terrible ambition of the doppelganger written into its warped features, hard and sharp. With some reflection, Miria shook her head softly.

"Those are mere..........fantasies.........empty, colourful, meaningless dreams; echoes of frustration which passes. They have no purchase within me, even if they are sweet to you. I have other ambitions beyond the Abyssal One's, even if they still live."

"_That is your prerogative, but it doesn't change the question before us; nay, it compounds it. Our nature is something you deny, yet that same great power; that will and keen mind always equips us against the world. A world that will seek to destroy you whence you set foot beyond Alphonse. You need only accept the natural inclinations that dwell within us, that spring of vital strength and we would be equal to our enemies and the power to shape the world to our needs would be given to us_........." Beginning to appreciate why the thing had stirred the portion of her......their psyche, Miria regarded it cautiously; seeking to discern some vital difference from their previous..........encounters.

"As I have said, my power.........our strength is tempered by my resolve to do what must be done. My goals will hopefully stand to at least benefit us, human and claymore, who succeed the organisation. In this, our vengeance, we shall obtain those goals and when the time comes, we shall go back into the world to pursue them. That is what calls us, regardless of what may stir within you and any other shadow that passes over the mind." Once again, the creature did not show any sign of emotion; its response one of a quiet gaze upon the captain, its eyes hard like cold, ancient amber.

"_Still.....still, you don't understand nor do you wish to understand ourself. Of all that has transpired through the years, don't you think that what you aspire to do will consume you? Perhaps...........but, even if it is only a fragment of what dwells within ourself, how should I go about persuading you as to the truth?_..............." Miria wondered for a moment; the inflection perhaps heralding some new argument or approach or............Her senses flared in alarm, cold realisation streaking through her mind as the figure before her vanished. Understanding immediately, a moment was all that was spared before fingers closed around air; momentarily impotent to find their actual target. Their form vanished once more drawn by an new intent as the other went after the captain. Their forms flickering, like some alien dance , the exchange of action for action finally snapped to a standstill as gloved, cold hands closed around Miria with a stifled gasp. The doppelganger twisting her footing, pressing close, one arm wrapped around her captive's front and grasped her forearm while the other bound her breast and closed around her throat. Any thought of resistance was momentarily given to a demand for an explanation.

"W..what is this!?........"

"_This, dear captain?_" The thing hissed into her ear as it pressed, almost intimately, against her cheek.

"_This is simply our logic. Our strategy was not effective over the years, so we are changing it as the situation dictates. In this, things may be far more fruitful_............."

"This can't succeed. If you do press forward, none of my warriors will hesitate to take my head if it is absolutely necessary. By the time you force through, there will be signs. You can't think to take my place without them knowing immediately." The cold, hard words brought only a smirk from the creature that held her in its bondage.

"_Are you so sure, my dear captain? The bonds of war and blood are not so easily shaken off in an instant, even for ones such as them. Seven years is long for such things to grow strong.........can you be certain that there will be no hesitation in them?_" Miria, flickering through her options persisted; speaking through tight lips her conviction.

"Yes."

It smiled. Looking away for a moment; its piercing gaze drawing thin as those demonic eyes shifted to the formless sky.

"_Perhaps....but still, such intimacy is new; even for us, something we have long wondered about_." Her captive shot her eyes around to peer with angry inquiry at the thing.

"What do you mean?............."

"_Nothing really. It's only that we deny ourselves so much; the truth that peers at us from within, the nature of our designs and, yes, even the simple pleasures which others can afford. Truly, we are cruel unto ourselves_........" She could hear the monster's breath as it forced her hand down her stomach and dipped into her inner thigh.

"_But, you see, we know better; so much better_............."

The gloved hand, cold in its grip, pressed Miria's hand deeper into the valley of her thighs, closer and deeper as to touch the thin barrier beyond which lay delicate contours. Its actions simultaneous, the creature leant even closer to the captain's face; nuzzling her hair away before parting warped lips and drawing a long serpentine tongue across her double's cheek, seeming to purr as it skimmed the smooth contours. Miria's anger and disgust were muted as her eyes narrowed in trial. The glistening flesh retracting, it seemed to partake heavily of her scent before going on.

"_In all the years of our life, we have never truly sought to satisfy even the smallest of our little desires, have we? You deny, but we see.........we feel...........we know. Our dreams...........fleeting........warm...........flesh grinding against flesh........the taste of sweat and hot juices...........the shifting and soft murmuring in the darkness of sleep...........the stirring in the secret, soft places of our self_.........." Miria's eyes were those supreme composition even as they grew hard with indignation.

"I.......will.....not....yield.....to......... such....things." She rasped through a taunt face.

"_Maybe..........but, we know. We have always known of what dwells within for we are as one. Our strength, our power, our might...........these things are all beholden to us clearly and without pretence to hollow and impudent and weak humanity. Let us show you_..........." The apparition's grip tightening, Miria felt a all too familiar pulse within and struggled to contain it; a vortex that whispered promises, offered a solution to all pain and tribulation, and dowsed her in a power that brought a twilight of cold ecstasy. Hissing, she fought hard, but already changing. Her face distorting, her flesh drank this power and shifted; fangs creeping forth within her mouth, eyes transfigured into luminous demonic windows, her voice now tempered by the youki taint........Control. Control was key now. It must be controlled. These thoughts chattered through the captain as her breathing grew laboured and quick. Seeming resolve frayed as tears streamed down a cruel echo of her visage. Narrowed eyes swung around to meet her other in the limit of her vision. Its words a cold, rasping account of her captive.

"_Do you see now, Miria? Do you behold it clearly? Don't you understand how easily you become us, become me?_......................" Punctuating her words with a forced gesture as tight fingers brought Miria's own hand up before her; the spectacle a almost inhuman sight of course flesh and too long fingers, each sporting a long tapering nail. The creature's power drawing deeper, it spoke once more. The rasp weighed with a certain finality as its sound echoed through the captain's stormy consciousness.

"_In us, we see a power that has long since dwelled within. That has grown only stronger with time. A power to reshape the world to our desires. We see something your comrades can only dream of in deepest fear........Skin like metal...........eyes that track near and far.............a voice like the east wind...............a touch like lighting.............a heart that has no weakness..........................a body untouched by time.................your form everywhere and nowhere............."_

"_Miria."_

"_Phantom Miria."_

"_This is who and what you are...............this is who and what I am...........This is us. This is the essence of our mind. This is the absolute of our nature. This is and will always be our soul........"_

The words, resonant and painful in their depth, might very well have driven the bound captain mad with the crushing duality. Until, finally, she ceased to resist. Slipping forward in her other's grasp, the creature felt a flicker of vindication in what it saw. Miria's form slumped, body marked by youki that had since ceased to roar within. Her eyes closed, a warped visage was still wet with tears and her jaw glistened as saliva seeped to the floor. All was silent. Was the other finally confirmed?

It was then that the silent, deflated figure felt what had been expected; a precise calculation based upon what she experienced before in this place and with her other. She felt the tension in its legs and stomach ease; the strength in the arms, still considerable, but now less exact.

Yes.

Now.

At this moment, precisely.

The movement was sudden and powerful; hard fingers returning a iron grip around the creature's forearm and suddenly its world was tossed askew. Flipped over to tumble forward with some strength; realisation was punctured by the sensation of its arm breaking in several places. Collecting on the floor, anger filled eyes spun around and it was up again. Yet before it could act, its reflection was gone and something ruptured deep within. Pierced by something, eyes lowered and the vision of a forearm and hand, now wet with so much blood returned to it. With a sudden convulsion, the intruder was torn out and blood erupted from behind a jagged mouth. Suddenly weakened, it collapsed to the floor; the armour clattering as blood seeped out. Twisting its head around, a blood smeared face peered away and found, at some distance, the one it had once bound. She was still, face and body warped by youki, and a bloody hand spilled blood to her feet; her eyes those of the demon. She neither spoke or gestured. Upon the floor, her quarry spluttered, groaned and finally laughed softly. Its broken form rising up to peer at Miria with a cold vindication in amber eyes. Its voice was wet with blood and, perhaps, some satisfaction.........

"_Do you see now, phantom Miria? This is what must be of us to harness the world beyond. This is but a whim of our strength_............" It smiled, through bloodied teeth and nodded.

"_Yes. Grow even stronger and in time all will be as not to us_." Finally the form seemed to her eyes to waver and begin to phase out, but not without a last intonation.

"_We understand. We shall be as before. We shall remain upon our concordance_......." With this the demon vanished and Miria was alone again. Assured that it was finally departed, she gave way to the strain and soon with a almost feral gasp, collapsed to the floor. The youki was still too great, even here. She had to stem it. She had to organise herself again and focus. She needed to calm her unsteady, clamouring mind. She needed to wake up.........

The darkness stirred and the first breath of consciousness brought phantoms of pain and alarm. In a heartbeat, she was upright; hand instinctively wrapping around the hilt of her weapon. Her eyes unsteady, were closed and her head bowed as if in great exhaustion. For a time there was nothing. The silence far from tranquil for the captain until something stirred some way beyond her half reclined form. Approaching with some caution, the half dressed forms of Tabitha and Yuma, each bearing stricken countenances, approached worriedly.

"Miria." Tabitha spoke with concerned silver eyes. Her shadowed visage peering at the captain, Yuma regarded what they found with equal concern as she brushed a stray lock from weary eyes. In the poor light of a small fire, the warriors regarded Miria as she sat, shoulders slightly low, while one hand locked around the hilt of the great blade. Yuma tentatively spoke, her soft words drawing the still, taunt face of their leader up to regard them with dull silver eyes.

"Miria...is...is something wrong? You were writhing in your sleep from what we saw.......are you feeling unwell?" The face of the captain turned away slightly, as if dazed, after blinking at the soft spoken warrior; the onlookers noticing her deep, heavy breath and sweat glazed features; perhaps even the paths of tears upon either cheek. Lacking any real response, both defensive claymores regarded each other pensively in the twilight before turning to their commander again. Carefully drawing a little closer, weary of the former number 6's skill, they asked gently again. Tabitha tentatively entreating their leader.

"Miria..........."

"........................."

"Miria?................Captain?........is something wrong? Are you feeling unwell?............."

A time passed and, in the soft light, they noticed Miria's eyes blink quickly and movement enter into her features; the animation easing her onlookers a little before the captain slowly beheld her benefactors; the grip upon the sword waning until a slender hand pushed down to straighten her posture slowly. Her eyes clearer now, she turned to the other two.

"I....I....I'm sorry, you two. I.....apologise if I startled you. It seems I can become..........tumultuous, in my rest."

"Did you have a bad dream then, Miria?" Yuma carefully asked.

"Yes............I had a very, very bad dream of sorts, but....nothing to worry about too much now......." Her onlookers seemed to take some relief in their leader's words and composure; the two a little watchful as Miria rose and opened a water canteen to drink deeply from it. Night had passed and the darkness was already beginning to recede to a heavy blue in the clear, cold sky. She spoke quietly as Yuma and Tabitha made preparations for the coming day and Miria dressed before swathing herself in her cloak and carefully setting off. Quietly passing sleeping warriors, among which the contorted Helen, who seemed to have her pillow in a headlock as she lay sprawled on her mattress. Exiting the mouth of the cave, Miria disappeared into the waning blue.

Some way from their retreat, on a rocky outcrop peering over the white forests and beholding the crags beyond, Miria stood. Beyond the mountains of grey and white, the first light of a new morning was creeping into the world. Regarding the sight and what beauty it might instil upon the face of the cold world around, she closed her eyes in reflection. Meditating upon the self and her own journey through unseen lands, she slowly drew her sword from the harness and beheld it; the fledgling light dancing upon the length with cold brilliance as she examined her insignia. Thankful that the familiar symbol would not be veiled by her blood on the morn, she sighed and sheathed it. Knowing that such duality did not simply abide in the greater world or in nature, but in the places of the soul, she wondered what would be the ultimate fate of herself and her troop of warriors who held both a human and demon soul in their mind. Taking stock of the path she had tread to this place in the world, she considered how her shadow might grow long and deep in the future; as it did now under the morning brightness, but perhaps tempered by the knowledge that its dominion need not grow, as if ineluctable. It was this inspiration that followed her as silver eyes turned and she trod along the snowy path, back to where her warriors stirred before a new day.

The End

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Hi there. It's been some time since i've written, but in the time i've really gained an interest in Claymore and the dark world Norihiro Yagi creates; as seen in both the manga and anime. Considering the duality innate to each and every Claymore, I wondered how the process of half-awakening and the powers it makes within the individual might manifest in the, arguably, most powerful of the seven warriors who have returned to the world after the events of the war in the north. Hopefully, a reader might find this an interesting journey through the thoughts and mind of "Phantom Miria" and her life so far.

Yours sincerely,

Sorcerer's Familiar.


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